


Confession

by itzteegan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Anal Sex, Angst, Arguing, Comfort, Confessions, Gay Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Nightmares, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Smut, bad memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 14:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19703362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itzteegan/pseuds/itzteegan
Summary: After seeing The Iron Bull wearing Dread for the first time, Dorian pushes him away, not wanting the reminder of the time he almost died. The Bull gives him a little space, but he won't play games forever, and the needed discussion gives way to something more serious.





	Confession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vixiak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixiak/gifts).



> Big thanks to Victoria Shulz for providing the headcanon that Dorian has nightmares after the first time he sees The Iron Bull wearing Dread. Just that idea turned into this and I have no regrets.

Dorian awoke with a start, sweat dripping down his brow, remnants of the nightmare swirling in his mind. The Iron Bull slept soundly beside him, and Dorian went to turn, to readjust, but that heavy, broad arm pulled him in tighter. He tried to relax, tried to let that pressure reassure him of reality, but the images still fleeting through his mind left a niggling ribbon of fear that he was finding hard to shake.

This was the first time he'd gotten to really spend some time with The Bull since the mercenary had been off with the Inquisitor on missions and Dorian had been assisting Dagna with some research. He didn't particularly like not spending time with The Bull, but the Arcanist needed some advising on magical matters – something he felt only his services would suffice for – and the Inquisitor needed the battle expertise of The Iron Bull she continued to clear out rifts. After all, she was a Circle mage, not exactly well-versed in combat. She'd been on a steep learning curve since the Temple of Sacred Ashes, though she was doing quite well.

So, seeing as this time was important to him, he didn't like spending it in this way, with this creeping terror haunting him. Worse still, he knew the true source of it, and it was lying right beside him.

Well, technically, it wasn't just The Bull. When he had walked in on him earlier, he was still undressing and had his new helmet on still, the one that had been obtained for him during that mission on the Storm Coast. Because of everything that had been going on, Dorian hadn't gone out with them since then and so he hadn't gotten to see the new helm that The Bull had bragged to him about. But he did last night, and he'd startled and swallowed hard and reminded himself that he was not in Qarinus, that he was in Skyhold and that he was safe, that the Qunari in front of him was not hostile and would not harm him (unless Dorian wanted him to, that is). He'd been able to shake off that initial shock well enough, but in his sleep, it had stalked him, taunted him with memories that he'd thought long-forgotten.

_The air was thick with smoke, choking him and stinging his eyes as he tried to run. Several times he had to stop and wipe away the gathering tears to try to clear his vision so he could see where he was going. He'd spent enough time in Qarinus so that he knew the city, but not quite like the back of his hand like Minrathous. If he could only get to the Tilani estate, he would be safe, but out in the streets with gaatlok exploding in the air and Qunari warriors rampaging here and there, he was exposed and vulnerable. The damn idiot that he was, he hadn't even thought to bring his staff, and while he could cast without it, it took much more effort and more mana, and he'd about drained himself taking down the few enemies he'd encountered. He felt dizzy on his feet, swaying as he stumbled down alleyways and thoroughfares, trying to avoid the worst of the raid while still making his way to safety._

_It was when he was in an otherwise deserted courtyard, getting close to his goal, when he heard a guttural yell expressing words in Qunlat he didn't understand. A stark chill ran down his spine, eyes widening as his eyes darted around to see the source, a particularly large Qunari warrior, dressed in traditional Shokra-taar, white hair spilling out behind a helmet that completely covered their face. Their warriors looked fearsome enough with the vitaar that they typically wore, but he'd never seen one with an actual, physical helmet before. The affect was frightening, the fact that one couldn't see the face making him look more like just a machine made for war._

_Which, essentially, under the Qun he was._

_He raised his jagged sword as he bellowed his challenge, and Dorian backed up, blinking against the smoke, wondering if he had the space to run or if the warrior would simply gain on him easily. Considering his height and the length of his legs, the latter seemed more probable. No, Dorian would have to make his stand here, where he had room to manoeuvre, rather than take his chances running and getting himself cornered in a narrow alley. And so he stood, wobbly as he was, straining to keep his eyes open through the stinging pain as the Qunari began to rush him. Summoning as much mana as he could at once, he hurled a fireball at him, but as if it was expected, the warrior brought up his shield and simply absorbed the hit as if it was nothing, even though the heat surely had at least singed some of his hair._

_Dorian summoned up a few more fireballs as the warrior gained on him, side-stepping to try to create as much space as possible, but his mana was waning and he wasn't going to be able to keep throwing fireballs at enemies. An explosion nearby rocked both of them, and the Qunari was off-balance just long enough for Dorian to summon the last of his mana and shoot fire at him._

_And again, as if he was expected it, he dodged the damn thing, and Dorian slumped to his knees, completely exhausted and drained, having no further recourse to defend himself. Looking up into the faceless helm, he wondered if the warrior was smiling as he approached, slowly as if he knew Dorian was helpless. Dorian's heart squeezed painfully in his chest, dread trickling down his spine as he physically shivered despite the heat from the fires blazing all around him. As the faceless warrior approached, Dorian was never more sure that he was about to meet his death, here in some abandoned courtyard, the last of the illustrious Pavus line. He'd thought he might die of old age, if he was lucky, wine in hand and perhaps a lover in bed. Or at the very least assassinated properly by a worthy rival. Not this, not cut down by a random warrior when he was unprepared and at his worst._

_The warrior towered over him, his sword gripped tightly in his fist as he began to chuckle, his tone so low it almost sounded like a growl, animalistic and rough. Dorian's heart beat painfully against his ribs and he could only watch and listen as the warrior told him something in Qunlat, something he couldn't understand but that he took to mean something akin to advising him to meet his death._

_As he raised his sword, however, a solid arc of pure lightening pierced through the warrior's chest from behind. He never saw it coming, and the body stood for the barest of a few seconds before it crumbled and Dorian scrambled out of the way, both to avoid being buried under that lump of muscle and dead weight and also to see who it was who saved him._

_None other than Maevaris Tilani rushed across the courtyard, skirt gathered in one hand and staff in the other. "There you are, I've been looking for you! Hurry, to my estate!"_

_With her help, Dorian had stumbled to his feet and followed after her, and as he shut and locked the door behind him, be did his best to put the image of that Qunari out of his mind._

And for a time, he had done just that, shedding the memory as he threw himself into study and wine. Sometimes more one than the other (usually the wine). And after Alexius had taken him under his wing, he'd certainly had more than enough to keep him busy, and as a result it had been years since he'd last thought back to that raid on Qarinus and the faceless Qunari warrior that almost killed him. And of course, after everything that had happened since he'd approached the Inquisition, it had seemed like a blip, like some small happenstance in his existence so trivial it wasn't even worth remembering.

Until he'd gotten an eyeful of Bull wearing such a similar helm, and then it had all come rushing back to him in his dreams.

In the present, wrapped in The Bull's arms, he tried to go back to sleep, but he kept jerking awake every time he closed his eyes and started to relax, the visual not wanting to leave him, triggering an instant reaction of fear and terror that kept him awake. Sighing, he realised that the sun was rising and that there was really no reason to keep at the pretence of sleep any longer. He didn't have anything in particular pressing him for his attention, but after the night he'd had – as nice as The Bull had made it after stripping them both down – he didn't want to linger, not like he normally did.

He carefully extricated himself from The Bull's grip, not an easy feat by any means, and rose to wash his face and fix his hair before he pulled on his robes and grabbed a quick breakfast before heading to the library. The Bull stirred as Dorian dressed, sleepily asking, "What's going on? Where are you going?"

"I have some work to do this morning," Dorian replied nonchalantly.

The Bull chuckled. "Come back to bed, Dorian, work can wait a little while."

Ordinarily, Dorian wouldn't have needed any kind of a reason to jump back in bed with his lover, but this morning the thought of doing so made his skin crawl. "No thank you, I-I need to get to work." He should have smoothed it over better, should have said something differently. The Bull was Ben-Hassrath trained, even if he wasn't with the Qun anymore, and if anyone could see through Dorian it was him. Perhaps if Dorian had been better rested, in a better state of mind, he could have shrugged it off more gracefully. But as it was, he stuttered, something completely out of character for him. Something that he knew The Bull would pick up on, and he internally cursed himself.

Blankets rustled as The Bull sat up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Dorian replied, a little too quickly.

Adjusting his collar, he ignored the continued rustling that meant The Bull was getting up. Just as he went to reach for his staff, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. The Bull's voice was low, calm, soothing as he asked, "Are you sure, Dorian? You seem on edge."

Huffing to try to hide the nervousness in his voice, he brushed off the concern. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Dorian ..." he intoned, his voice serious.

"I don't want to talk about it," Dorian replied curtly.

"Was it something about last night?" The Bull asked, still trying to figure it out.

"Fasta vass, just drop the bloody subject, will you?" he replied, irritated, his words clipped and full of frustration.

The Bull hesitated, as if he was going to say something else, and Dorian prayed to the Maker and Andraste and whatever other gods might be listening that he not push the issue. And somehow it must have worked because the hand fell from his shoulder and he could hear the heavy footsteps that accompanied The Bull's retreat. "Alright," was the only other thing he said before Dorian grabbed his staff and hoofed it out the door.

+

Sighing, shoulders sagging, Dorian rubbed at his eyes, which he was pretty sure were bloodshot at this point. Leliana had, surprisingly, found something obscure for him to research, and while he would have ordinarily rolled his eyes at the request, this time he jumped on it as a distraction. It had taken up the entirety of the day and it was now well into the night, and while he was getting closer to his goal – he could feel it – the words were starting to blur on the page as he tried to read. Rubbing his eyes didn't seem to do anything, and so he rested his elbows on the table and cradled his head in his hands. Breathing slowly, in and out, his eyelids naturally drooped as he dozed there, at his table in the library.

At least, he did until someone unceremoniously, noisily dropped themselves into a chair across from him.

Startling, he whipped his head up to see The Iron Bull. It was a testament to how tired he was – to the point of still being about half-asleep – that Dorian didn't immediately kick him out and instead immediately asked, on instinct, "Yes?"

The Iron Bull dispensed with any notion of beating around the bush. "I'm worried about you."

Dorian snorted, coming around to his senses a little more. "Sounds like a waste of time to me."

His eye narrowed, and Dorian had the sinking feeling that he wasn't simply going to let the subject drop like he did that morning. "You don't run off like that, especially without any pressing work." Before Dorian could protest, The Bull held up a hand and stopped him right there. "I had already checked with Dagna, wanted to make sure I wouldn't wear you out too badly if you were needed this morning."

The mage nibbled surreptitiously at the inside of his lip, clearly caught and unsure how to proceed. "And? What of it?"

Sighing, the Qunari reached across the table and took one of Dorian's hands in his own, establishing a physical connection between them as he sought a mental one as well. "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

Blustering in an attempt to deflect, Dorian retorted, "I don't see how it's any of your concern."

"It's my concern when it's someone I care about." Silence blanketed the library for a few moments before The Bull implored him yet again, "Please, let me help if I can. I want to."

Dorian's shoulders sagged once more, but this time because he knew there was no sense in continuing this stubborn streak of his. He knew when he was defeated, he knew when to give up, and this was one of those times, as reluctant as he was to do so. Sighing, he rubbed his forehead with his free hand as he asked, "If we must do this, can we go somewhere else?"

+

Lounging in one of the plush chairs in his own quarters, Dorian sipped what he termed was a well-deserved glass of wine as The Bull sat on the bed opposite him, hands on his knees as he waited for Dorian's explanation to begin. He was, of course, reluctant to do so, but he was there now and there was no turning back. The mage smacked his lips ever so slightly as he spoke. "That's an interesting helmet you acquired."

The Bull chuckled. "It came at a high price, but ... I suppose, in the end, it was worth it."

"Mmmm," Dorian hummed. "I don't suppose you might know where it came from?"

"It's a special helm made for elite warriors. Why do you ask?"

Instead of facing his lover, Dorian watched the wine as he swirled it in the glass. "It's not the first time I've seen that helmet, you know."

"Oh?" For once, The Bull actually seemed surprised.

Switching gears ever so slightly, Dorian inquired, "Do you know much about Qunari raids on Tevinter?"

The Bull shrugged. "A little, though I was never involved as they wanted me on Seheron. Why?"

And so Dorian related the tale of his experience with Qunari raids, sparing his lover no details. As much as he knew his homeland was far from perfect, there were plenty of innocents caught in the middle of those raids, as well he should know since he was very nearly one of them. Both Tevinter and the Qunari had blood on their hands, it did neither of them any good to pretend like that wasn't the truth, and The Bull was starting to truly understand that more and more as of late. Dorian would give credit where credit was due, after all.

As the pieces fell into place, Dorian could see The Bull's face fall. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't. How could you? How could I expect you to?" Dorian murmured as he continued to sip on the wine.

"That doesn't mean I don't regret it." Sighing, The Bull ran his hand over his face as he asked, "Dorian, do you see our relationship as just a fling, or do you see something more ... serious?"

"Serious?" With the look that The Bull levelled at him, Dorian knew to quit playing around and acting coy. He dropped his eyes to his wine again as he drummed his fingers against the lip. "I like you. More than I should. More than might be wise." There he said it. Now it was out in the open for The Iron Bull to do with it what he would. He held his breath as he awaited to hear what would come of this confession, the second one he'd given this night, the second one he'd not wanted to give.

The Bull's voice dropped a couple of octaves as he said, "Well, perhaps we should be a little foolish, then." Dorian's eyes immediately flicked up, shocked that he would say something like that. He'd expected to be rejected, to be told that he was out of line, that his feelings were too much, too intense, unwanted and unneeded. He'd heard the same before, born the same pain before, and when he didn't feel that knife when he expected it, it surprised him to the point where his jaw dropped and his mouth gaped ever so slightly. The Bull chuckled. "Speechless for once, I see."

Dorian shook his head before he explained, "Where I come from, anything between two men ... it's about pleasure only. It's accepted only if it's taken no further than a casual dalliance. You ... you learn not to hope for more. It's a hard habit to break."

The smile that spread across The Bull's face was positively delightful. "I'm good at breaking things."

Dorian returned it with a smirk of his own. "Hopefully not everything." Draining the rest of his glass, he felt a sense of relief as he set it aside and rose to saunter over to the bed where The Bull sat. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice soft.

At that, The Bull's eyebrow arched. "You? Sorry?"

He rolled his eyes. "I can admit when I'm wrong, you know."

The Bull chuckled as he suddenly grabbed hold of Dorian's waist and pulled him down so he was straddling the large Qunari's lap. "You surprise me, Kadan."

It was Dorian's turn to arch his eyebrow questioningly. "Kadan?"

"Kadan," he repeated. "My heart."

"Kadan," Dorian said softly, lowering his head to brush his lips against his lovers, feeling the rough texture and the near-constant scruff that adorned his face. His lovers' large hands roamed his back before they slipped around and started unfastening the buckles. It took far more work to get Dorian out of his clothes than The Bull, but the Qunari mercenary was quick and efficient and he ended up stripping Dorian before the mage even got his harness off.

As The Bull laid him out on the bed, Dorian didn't think he'd ever felt as vulnerable as he was in that moment. But despite that, as he watched The Bull finish stripping, he never felt more safe. Seeing his Qunari lover grab the oil and tower over him on the bed, all feelings of fear and terror were banished. Somehow, impossibly, The Bull loved him. And he loved The Bull. And that fact was never more clear than when his lover tenderly grasped his cock with an oiled hand as he slipped two fingers inside him with no other preamble. Prep may not have strictly been needed, but if there was one thing The Bull was, it was a tease. Dorian felt his eyes on him even as he closed his, letting his head fall back on the pillow as he thrust his hips upward, seeking more sensation, needing more, always more.

And The Bull, as always, was more than willing to give him more.

Crawling up the bed, he locked lips with Dorian as he lined up his own oiled up cock with his lovers' slicked entrance, not hesitating even a moment before he started pushing inside. He swallowed Dorian's moan as he rocked in, inch by inch, until finally he was fully sheathed and Dorian felt like he just might explode from the way he felt so full. The Bull didn't even move, his hips not even twitching as he planted kisses over Dorian's face and neck, causing the mage to hiss and groan as he hit sensitive spot after sensitive spot. Dorian reached around and dug his fingernails into The Bull's muscled back, dragging them upwards and eliciting a grumble of pleasure so close to a growl it made his cock twitch. He tried to flex his own hips, get some sort of friction, but The Bull was already anticipating him, reaching to hold down his hips so that they went by his pace and his alone. Dorian whined in protest, but The Bull wasn't having any of it, more than content to keep going exactly the way he was. As The Bull's teeth grazed his collarbone, Dorian clenched his teeth and said, "Well? What are we waiting for?"

The Bull chuckled, the motion rumbling through his chest as he told him, "You know what I'm waiting for."

Breathing heavily, Dorian weighed the options in his mind, and while ordinarily he liked to hold out longer, he found that in this moment, he just couldn't find it in himself to do that. After the shitty sleep he'd gotten the night before, the tense day he'd had, and the frank discussion with The Bull that he didn't even want to occur in the first place ... there was nothing left in him to resist. He was only semi-successful at keeping the shake out of his voice as he pleaded, "Bull, please, I need you."

There was a note of amusement in his voice as he asked, "Oh? Need what, exactly?"

Dorian outright growled as he threw all semblance of dignity away. "Kaffas, Bull, just fuck me already!"

"Gladly."

And with that, The Bull wasted no time, not even easing into it in the slightest as he pulled back and slammed into Dorian, barely giving him a moment to catch his breath before he did it again. Moving his hands from his hips, The Bull grasped Dorian's hands and pulled them off of him, instead pining them above his head as he fucked him hard and fast. Dorian writhed underneath him, so lost in the sensations that he could barely hear what The Bull was whispering in his ear.

But once he did, he felt like he might sob, if only because the cumulative events of the day had already left him feeling raw. "Mine, all mine," The Bull murmured, his teeth tracing the shell of Dorian's ear as he fucked the man senseless. He also said some words in Qunlat that Dorian didn't understand, but he always came back to, "Mine."

And what did it say about Dorian that it spoke to some deep, repressed part of him that he wanted that, that he wanted to be claimed like this, to belong to someone so deeply that they could whisper a few simple words and he was ready to spill. The Bull's stomach brushed against his aching cock, but it wasn't quite enough, wasn't going to get him there. But The Bull had a hold of his hands so he couldn't do it himself, and instead he found himself begging, "Bull, please, I need ... I need more. Please."

The Bull growled. "Words, Dorian. Use them."

Groaning, the mage attempted to put together a suitable sentence in his mind, finally coming up with, "I need your hand on my cock. Please, I want to come, I can't come like this."

He could practically feel the grin coming off of The Bull. While it was true, he had come untouched before, he couldn't do it every time, and this was just one of those times. If anything, however, The Bull was an accommodating lover, and while he still kept a hold of Dorian's hands with one of his, he slipped the other in between them and grasped Dorian's cock. Dorian moaned loudly, his hips jerking as he met The Bull's thrusts, and it was as The Bull leaned over and sucked a dark mark in the crook of his neck that Dorian spilled over his stomach and his lovers' hand.

The Bull grunted, pleased, and he reached down and pulled one of Dorian's legs up, giving him even deeper penetration as he chased his own end, finding it several minutes later, burying himself inside the Tevinter mage.

As his hands were released, Dorian let them wander aimlessly, coming to rest around The Bull's neck. His fingertips lightly caressed the now sweat-laden skin as Dorian drank in the moment for all it was worth, in all its vulnerability and complexity and safety. And in that moment, he could think of only one thing to say, one thing that could possibly sum up everything he was feeling.

"Amatus."


End file.
